


the call of the newt

by gudetama (elementary)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Dating, Drunk Dialing, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, M/M, Sort Of, Swearing, modern!Newt swears more apparently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-05-23 12:11:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14934041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementary/pseuds/gudetama
Summary: Inspired by the text: I just woke up to 3 voicemails from you. In the first one you just laughed for 3 minutes straight. In the second you did bird calls. In the third you were hysterically crying. Have fun last night?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Second entry for the Fantastic Beasts Calendar event! As the summary says, it's from [one of the entries](https://textsfromnewtscase.tumblr.com/post/173025994932/973-i-just-woke-up-to-3-voicemails-from-you-in) on a Tumblr called Texts from Newt's case which is quite entertaining so check it out if you'd like :)
> 
> Thank you [Alia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliaaaaaa) and [Vaderina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaderina) for the help!

The ringing of his phone is about the worst wake-up call Newt has ever experienced in his short life. While it isn’t the first time he’s waking up this morning (a series of text messages chiming obnoxiously will do that as well—he swears he silenced it then but apparently not), it’s just as painful. It blares and attacks his senses in a way that should be illegal and whose brilliant idea was it to set it as the cry of—ugh, which lemur is that? Bringing the sound closer to him doesn’t help him figure it out but it does allow him to turn it off.

“ _About time._ ”

Oh, he answered it. Newt whines in annoyance.

“ _Not a good morning, then?_ ”

The voice floats softly into Newt’s ear, tickling it. Regardless, he's in a poor state of being—throbbing head, dry throat, nausea, something dead sitting on his tongue, cold—and can’t be bothered to return the politeness like he wishes to.

“Sod off, Thes,” Newt groans into the phone.

The voice hums. “Guess again, Little Newt.”

Newt’s eyes snap open as the familiar words click into place and he scrambles up, only to regret it and slump down again with a pained moan. He buries his face in his arms in an attempt to block out any external stimulation, but is helpless against the internal ones. His head spins and nausea rolls through him; in a second he’s up again to run to the bathroom and empty his stomach. The coolness of the toilet is his best friend for the moment as he breathes through the residual sickness afterwards.

 _Oh my god,_  Newt thinks, hanging onto the porcelain like a lifeline. _Please strike me down._

Once he stops feeling like he's being tossed around in an ocean, Newt freshens up with cold water and manages to brush his teeth. When he trudges back to bed, he sees the call is still ongoing.

“Bugger,” he curses under his breath, picks it up. “Hello?”

“Good morning,” the other person says, and Newt hears a hint of a smile.

“Morning, Percy,” Newt responds miserably.

Percy a.k.a Percival Graves – Newt’s older brother Theseus’s best friend, a family friend by extension, and the object of Newt's crush the size of the moon since he was twenty-five-years-old. He’s twenty-eight as of today.

“A little too much fun, I see,” Percy teases, obviously amused. “Go get yourself a glass of water.”

“Yes, mum,” Newt mutters and obediently heads to the kitchen. “Did you need something?”

“Just checking on you, and wondering if you were available for brunch today,” the man replies. “Doesn’t seem like it, though. Let me know when it’s good. My treat, for the birthday boy.”

That sounds nice, and Newt starts nodding before remembering that that’s a bad idea. He arrives in time to lean over atop the kitchen counter and breathes for a moment, then makes an affirmative noise. “Tomorrow?”

Percy’s voice continues to rumble pleasantly through the speaker as Newt finally musters up the energy to go to his fridge. He opens the door and the small blast of cool air feels great. Pouring himself a glass of water proves to be more of a challenge than usual but he manages with minimal spills. A refreshing sip rejuvenates him some and enables him to go search for some painkillers.

“Aha,” Newt exclaims, grabbing the bottle from the cupboard.

“—and you aren’t listening anymore.”

“What?” Newt mutters distractedly, trying to manoeuvre the phone onto his shoulder, put down the glass, and twist open the cap simultaneously. “Birds. You were saying something about that.”

Ha, he was listening. The lid pops open, and Newt tries not to read into the responding silence seemingly full of disbelief as he taps out a couple.

Percy snorts. “Of course that’s the only part you caught,” and the fond exasperation in his tone has Newt picturing him shaking his head. “Never mind, it was your birthday celebration; not recalling half the night was the point.”

Newt almost chokes as he swallows the pills down with another drink. “Oh god, what did I do?”

“I’ll let you know if I'm feeling generous.”

“Percy,” the name drags out of him in a whine.

“Happy birthday, Newt.”

Newt pauses the glass at his mouth, breath momentarily catching at the warmth he hears. His heart responds in kind though it isn’t quite the same sort, quickening a bit.

“Thank you,” he says, certain emotions making it softer than intended.

“I’ll leave you to your recovery, then, and text you the details,” Percy says, and it fills Newt with both disappointment and relief as the call ends.

Sighing, Newt runs a hand over his face and stands there for a moment, then drains the rest of the water and leaves it in the sink. Going back to bed seems like a good idea at this point.

In bed, now a bit more conscious, he checks the unread messages that woke him earlier. Most are from his friends who were celebrating with him last night asking after him, a couple from Theseus that are a series of emoticons that make no sense. One is from Percival about voicemails that Newt has no recollection of leaving, one of which included bird calls. The bird thing. He isn’t sure if he’s glad the man didn’t pick up to hear him live, or mortified that they’ve been recorded for future reminiscing at his expense.

 _They aren't too terrible, at least,_ he tries to console himself; best to put it from his mind for now.

Before sleep, he texts his friends in their group chat, apologizing for getting so pissed last night and thanking them for getting him home safely. They seem to be alright as they tease him for not lasting past a of couple rounds.

Jacob: _we shouldve stuck to our tradition for newt_

Tina: _traditions are meant to be broken_

Queenie: _there’s always next year, honey ❤_

'thx guys heading back to sleep' Newt types as his ‘goodbye’ and closes his eyes.

The painkillers start taking effect within half an hour and Newt is just about to fall asleep when a sudden memory has him jolting up with a gasped ‘no’. Newt remembers exactly what Percy meant by ‘birds’: he left a damn _mating call_  of a purple-crowned fairywren on the man’s voicemail.

 _Fuck,_ can he be anymore pathetic?

Newt falls back onto his pillow, buries his face in it. He doesn’t scream but it’s a close thing.

 

 

How it happened is anyone’s guess including Newt’s.

Theseus met Percy halfway through grad school when they were assigned to be roommates and became fast friends. So fast, in fact, that his brother brought Percy home that very summer after first year. Being at an awkwardly confused and developing stage in his life, Newt wasn’t too keen on dealing with strangers who had the potential to be cruel as much as his peers were to him at the time. He hadn’t been rude, just a bit reticent, yet Percy showed respect, left Newt alone while not ignoring him completely. He was... nice, ‘brother of my friend is a brother of mine’ and all that.

Percy never minded when Theseus would try to include Newt in any of their activities or study sessions, and aptly listened when he wanted to talk about his interests, even asking appropriate questions. He encouraged Newt when he struggled with indecision to pursue his dream career, helped reason with his brother who posed realistic limitations. It built from there, and got to the point where he would act in Theseus’s stead when Newt needed someone.

And that hasn’t changed one bit, at least on Percy’s end.

A few years ago, Percy left on a long-term business trip overseas to manage a headquarter office for his company. Upon his return, Newt went to pick him up from the airport, saw the man walk through the sliding doors and smile at him fondly and openly with Newt’s name on those lips and... that was that.

It’s still a profound mystery for him to this day.

And he tries not to wrack his brains on his way to the promised (belated) birthday brunch with Percy. Having spent all of yesterday to recover from the _amazing_  celebration he had, it’s with a refreshingly clear mind, anticipation, and nerves that he goes. It probably isn’t such a good idea for them to meet alone with how obvious he is lately zoning out in front of the man from being distracted by his various gestures and features, but he will never turn down a treat from Percy.

Frankly, Newt considers it a miracle (and good luck) that he hasn’t noticed anything.

Percy is already there when Newt arrives at the quaint bistro where they make everything sound fancier than it is; not that he minds, it’s still delicious if a tad pricey. He’s welcomed with open arms, literally, and Newt falls into them with a smile, smells one of Percy’s subtler colognes as he squeezes back.

“All better today?” Percy asks with a teasing undertone as they sit.

“Yes,” Newt sighs ducking his head, picks at the corner of the menu. “Not doing that again anytime soon.”

A hand reaches over and ruffles Newt’s hair as if he isn’t an adult nearing thirty, and he swats it away before being temporarily dazzled by Percy’s responding smile. Briefly, he wonders if Percy will even take him seriously should he confess, what with his ‘younger brother’ view of Newt. A five-year difference seems less significant now than it did when Newt was eighteen but...

“I did say to order whatever you want but the whole menu might be a little too much,” he hears the man say, and realizes that he has been staring down at the menu for too long without actually seeing anything.

The server comes by with their beverages that Newt doesn’t even remember ordering, unable to tell if he did while absent-minded or Percy ordered for the both of them because he knows what Newt wants anyway. Oh dear, this is already turning out to be a mess. He’s fully engaged at least when they place their food orders—Percy indulging himself with waffles and Newt a simple omelette.

After the server leaves, they drink in silence. Newt tries to ignore the way he’s being scrutinized over the mug’s rim by Percy (who currently looks like he stepped straight out of a coffee commercial, goodness) and hides behind his own cup. Maybe if he keeps silent and purposefully ignorant, nothing will happen.

Unfortunately, it turns out that Percy was simply waiting for Newt to put his cup down.

“So, about that mating call—”

And Newt cries out partially in shock and partially to prevent more words following that phrase then immediately snaps his mouth shut, but not before blurting out, “How did you—”

Percy sighs, a (nice) hand rubbing over his (delicate) mouth thoughtfully. “The right question is, how would I _not_  know—it’s your favourite bird of the month. More importantly, it seems you remember.”

 _Fuck me,_ Newt thinks with dread; he stupidly set himself up. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“No?” Percy questions with an arched brow.

Still handsome even when Newt’s in the throes of mortification, the wanker. Newt firms his mouth in a hard, stubborn line even as his face heats. Percy doesn’t know, will never know if he can help it.

“Because if you did, we can arrange something between us.”

Newt blinks, frowns. “What?”

“Like a date,” Percy shrugs, picks up his mug again for a sip.

Newt blinks again, opens and closes his mouth a couple times. “ _What?_ ”

“Do you like me, Newt?”

“Yes—I mean, no,” Newt shakes his head. “I mean, not _like_  like. But I like you plenty. Like—yeah.” His brain isn’t processing the situation properly, rendering his social skills even more chaotic than usual. God, help him. “I don’t. Think so?”

_Why did that even come out as a question._

Then it’s Percy’s turn to frown, and Newt has lost his mind enough to think that he sees something like disappointment cross that face. “Ah, I see, that’s a shame. I’m sorry to have brought it up, then. Please forget about it.”

Their food arrive shortly after an uncomfortable silence which persists as they eat. It’s all Newt can hear despite the ambient noise of the surrounding customers and his own fork and knife clinking against the plate.

Halfway through the meal, it hits Newt. He raises his head, dumbfounded, watches as Percy cuts elegantly into his waffle and then spears a strawberry before dipping it in syrup.

“Were you asking me on a date?” he hisses in a shocked exhale.

Percy pauses with the fork halfway to his mouth then puts it back down, sighs. “I was rather confirming if _you_  were.”

“How. What happened. When did—” Newt stops, mind spinning, hand hurting. The latter he belatedly realizes is because he’s gripping his fork too hard, and lets go.

“Recently, I suppose,” Percy mutters, expression a little embarrassed.

“You suppose,” Newt repeats dumbly.

“I was a bit slow on the uptake. Sue me,” Percy crosses his arms defensively.

“That’d be problematic if I’m trying to date you,” Newt says without thinking.

“So, that’s a yes.”

“I suppose.”

Percy snorts. “You suppose.”

“Shut up,” Newt retorts, fighting against a grin because this isn’t actually happening, is it? “Yes. Yes, alright?”

“Finish your eggs, Newton,” Percy says, but the sternness is effectively ruined by his mouth twitching upwards.

He picks up his fork again, and the cut of waffle and strawberry finally make it to their destination. Newt gets lost in the motion of his chewing until Percy raises his brow again and snaps him out of it.

Afterwards, his friend (boyfriend? date?) drops him off at home and pulls him over across the seat by his shirt for a kiss. It's short and beyond sweet, one that will follow Newt into his days and nights for a long while. He barely sighs into it when Percy draws back, and Newt grabs his hand that was about to let go, drags his eyes from that mouth up to pretty brown eyes.

“One more?” he murmurs, licking his lips and tasting a hint of strawberries.

And Percy obliges with a smile. There’s a click from the release of a seatbelt and Percy is pushing forward with both his mouth and body forcing Newt back, and Newt’s breath catches as the man climbs over to his side—already? Really? Oh god, is he ready? But they’re in the car—

_Click. Clunk. Whoosh._

Percy’s weight lifts off of him and Newt opens his eyes in confusion, first looks at his friend still smiling, then at the opened door to his other side, then back again.

Percy gives him a quick peck on his cheek with the murmured words, “Take care, Newt; until next time.”

Newt’s nudged out of the car and the door closes behind him; he watches Percy wave and drive off, leaving him dazed in front of his building.

And, well, that’s that, apparently.

 

 

(Later, Newt finds out Theseus had to knock their heads together, figuratively speaking. Newt's attitude was obvious to everyone except the relevant person; Percy noticed but not _noticed_  noticed, attributing some other reason for Newt’s stares of admiration and longing looks, and in his own way the man tried to help with fashion advice and 'cheer up' outings.

So Theseus pulled him aside and bluntly stated, “He _likes_  you, you twit. How daft can you get?”)

“Not sure whether to thank him or not,” Newt mutters. He’s on Percy’s couch, head on his shoulder as the man taps away on his tablet. “He'll either gloat or yell about not wanting details.”

“Shall we see?” Percy asks.

They take a selfie together, smiling, and send it to Theseus.

 _You guys are gross,_ Theseus messages back.

 _its your fault_  Newt types.

 _That’s right_  and there’s a toothy-grin emoji at the end.

Percy snorts and shakes his head. “Anyway, I needed some time to process it and found that I wasn’t opposed to the idea, perhaps already returned some of it myself without realizing. I wondered how to broach the subject.” A pause. “Then you sent that message.”

Biting back a groan, Newt feels his face heat in memory. He’ll never live that down.

“It could have been a drunk habit of yours for all I knew,” Percy shrugs. “Like you said, you don’t drink often, never mind getting hammered.”

“Let’s never talk about it again, please,” Newt begs.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be laughing about it in a few months' time,” Percy hums, and Newt can hear the smile in his voice. _Tap tap tap._ “And besides, how many people can say that they were propositioned via bird noises—”

Percy’s words cut off with a yelp because he almost drops his tablet when Newt bowls him over into the couch. Newt pulls it out of his hands and sets it on the nearby coffee table in one smooth motion while muffling a surprised laugh from the man with his mouth.

No bird noises are involved in the proposition that follows.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this text post](https://textsfromnewtscase.tumblr.com/post/177762823624/989-when-i-type-sleep-my-phone-suggests-with), thought it'd be a nice follow-up to this oneshot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for excessive use of italics as usual

It’s both the same yet different, as they all say.

His long-time one-sided infatuation with his close friend was reciprocated a couple weeks ago and it still feels like a dream that he never wants to wake from. In fact, he still daydreams about their first kiss.

They’ve been texting daily and with the exception of a newfound giddiness everytime he sees Percival's name on his phone’s lockscreen, their exchanges are as easy as before this recent development. Easier, perhaps, now that Newt isn’t trying to hide anymore.

( _“You call that hiding? Do you even know how obvious you were to anyone within your vicinity? Except to the one who mattered, apparently, because of course that’s who you’d like,” Thes scoffs._ )

Newt shakes his head to clear it.

Since then, he has been tentatively exploring the boundaries between friend and lover and finds that he isn’t very good at it. Not for lack of trying, oh no; rather, he’s full of ideas, only that the execution leaves a lot to be desired. No one exactly possesses a manual on how to start flirting with your friend. Except Percival, maybe, because everything he says or does, Newt is on the verge of collapsing. Or that’s simply his enormous affections for the man speaking.

Besides that, he has difficulty reading the mood and when to... take action. He’s apparently transparent in his intentions because oftentimes Percival would glance over at him and then give him a kiss or hold his hand or let him cuddle, but of course until he does...

Newt sighs. He must have been staring too hard at his boyfriend again instead of watching the movie because Percival flips his palm up between them so that he can slide his own onto it. Today, Percival’s eyes sort of linger on him to his unease.

“What?” Newt blurts out.

Percival shrugs then turns back to the t.v. “Do as you’ve always done; since when have you minded the consequences with me?”

 _Since things became complicated?_  Newt silently screams.

But those words have some effect, and the next time Newt feels courageous enough to initiate. Embarrassing at first, but ever-accommodating, Percival encourages him with receptiveness.

His maturity and experience know no bounds, in Newt's opinion.

 

 

**Things to do:**

  * Set up a date with Percival



After typing out the first task, Newt puts his phone down to muffle incoherent noises with his pillow. The mere idea of it makes his heart aflutter with happy nerves. Not that he and Percival don’t have time for each other outside of attending to their own lives, but Newt wishes to try certain ‘couple things’.

 _“You know, if you wanted to ask about dating you could’ve called someone actually dating, like my sister,”_  Tina says from the other side of the line.

Newt can’t possibly tell her that he didn’t because Queenie would somehow be able to tell his less-than-innocent desires amongst other thoughts even through the phone and suggest some things that he’d rather not bring into light at the moment.

 _“She still scares you, huh,”_  Tina guesses regardless from his pause.

Newt laughs awkwardly. “Not all the time?”

_“So, what’s wrong with what you guys have always done?”_

“I don’t know,” Newt admits, sighing. “Feels like a date should, well, be distinguished as a date, at least. That’s what makes it a date.”

_“What, the added romantic feelings and kissing and holding hands aren’t indication enough?”_

“It isn’t like we’ll be doing that constantly,” Newt says even as he feels himself blush.

_“Please. You’ve been holding back for so long, there must be lots pent-up. I’m surprised you haven’t exploded already—”_

“Oh my god, Tina, I'm sorry I asked.”

They hang up after a few more words and Newt returns to compiling his list. It isn’t too long—watch this movie, go see that, eat here, drive there—shorter than his bucket list for sure though these could very well be part of that, too. Then he makes a separate document for regular tasks with some things about research for his book. There's a bit of conflict he experiences when he finishes the list and compares it to his dating one, wondering how priorities can shift this quickly.

It doesn’t take long for him to justify that the novelty will wear off shortly and he should enjoy it while he can.

That is, while he has the energy.

With his book now in the stages of meeting strict deadlines, researching, organizing notes, and writing it have exponentially increased in sense of urgency. The good thing is that the pressure of being forced beyond his own pace doesn't deter him like usual as this is his dream manifested; the bad thing is that he’s still working his paying job on top of all this.

Hence, more often than not, Newt’s collapsing into bed exhausted, missing his boyfriend.

It’s to the point he desperately needs to put in a reminder for himself to sleep—

 _with Percival_ , his phone says across the top of the keyboard.

“What the—” Newt mutters, blinking wide awake all of a sudden and lifting his head from where it was lying on his notes.

He stares at his phone for a bit, wondering _why_. Is it broken? Another virus?

The problem is, he can’t very well call one of his friends or his brother like he usually does with technological issues and ask why his phone is suggesting that he sleep (or _sleep_ ) with Percival, why it’s laying out his desires for anyone to see like an asshole.

Newt continues to stare blankly, accidentally taps it while trying to get rid of it and stares at the completed statement. Then backs out of the app without saving.

In a couple minutes with his brain back online, a quick incognito search explains the suggestion function of a keyboard based on gathered information from his typing. Newt doesn’t recall allowing such a thing but he also has a terrible habit of clicking ahead without reading properly much to Theseus’s annoyance, having to repair Newt’s devices from time to time.

Well, sure, perhaps his dating to-do list is a bit extensive but that doesn’t mean his every action depends on Percival.

Figuring he’d fix it later, Newt puts it aside and goes back to sleep—writing.

He pulls himself into bed sometime in the middle of the night and buries his face into the pillow, wishing it was something, _someone_ else.

 

 

Over the rim of his mug, Percival gives him a concerned look. Understandably so, since Newt has more than once come back to the man trying to gain his attention. This is the first time in a while that they’ve met and without much motivation on Newt’s part, Percival had opted to visit him at home instead of going out. With tea and coffee and some snacks to munch on between them at the dining table, the flat quiet save for little movements, it’s as comfortable as it gets for Newt.

There’s a guilty stab in his chest for not being fully attentive, made worse by knowing that Percival understands.

“I’ll leave soon, let you get some rest,” the man says at last to which Newt shakes his head vigorously.

To him, seeing Percival is the energizer he needs at the moment.

Newt receives a sceptical brow, realizes he said it out loud and flushes.

“It’s true,” he mutters. “Besides, I still have things that need to be done. I’m taking a well-deserved break.”

“Alright,” Percival sighs. “How about this, then? I’ll stay and you go to bed early.”

Tempting, Newt thinks, but that still means Percival will leave earlier.

“Or, I can leave now and without supervision, you can go to bed as late as you want.”

Newt does not pout. “I’m not a child,” then after a beat. “Don’t go.”

Percival smiles approvingly and Newt feels indulged but also like he’s been had. He takes a drink of his tea.

“Here, let me put in a reminder for you,” and Percival picks up his phone, tsks at the lack of a security measure. “Sleep—hm?”

It takes Newt a confused moment to recognize something wrong with the silence that follows, then his head snaps up so quickly he’s sure he’s knocked his brain against his skull. Hot blood rushes to his face and burning what's left of his dignity. “Oh bloody— _no_ , that's—” He jumps up and snatches his phone away and wants to hide. “M-my phone, it's been acting up lately and I haven't gotten around to—” _smashing it to pieces with no chance of recovery_  “—to fixing it.”

“Is that why you couldn’t sleep?” Percival asks with a straight face—could be referring to his lie or what his phone suggested quite unhelpfully—but it’s obvious that he’s teasing.

 _Fuck me,_  Newt thinks miserably, then his thoughts take a sharp turn. _Oh god, not like that; really, Newt? Now?_

“I could help.”

“What? With this?” Newt holds up the damning device.

“With that,” Percival nods.

Newt’s brain valiantly tries to resuscitate itself and fire signals to process words. With fixing his phone or... _that_? Dare he even assume _that_?

“What. Do you mean?” he eventually asks.

His breath gets caught when Percival slowly moves, up and around the table, closer, _oh god he's beautiful even from this close_ —

Disappointment sinks heavily into his being when he feels the phone being taken out of his hand and he opens his eyes— _when did he even close them_ —just in time to see brown ones close and then it’s a mouth on his with a hand cupping his cheek. A noise of surprise escapes him and then he’s got his own hands on Percival, at the man’s waist, pulling him closer.

“With that?” Newt asks when they part, breathless.

“With that, if you don't mind,” Percival confirms with a smile, a smile that Newt tastes in the next second.

With no more doubts or patience he presses in deep, parted lips and shared breaths, slick and hot. They meet again and again at different angles, pulling away to lick and bite then returning to devour. In no time, Newt's already touching bare skin underneath Percival's shirt and admiring the dip of his spine while he himself has his head tilted back for kisses along his throat, shivering at the sensation.

Newt's heart is going to burst out of his chest.

“Per-Percy, there’s, we can—” Newt tries.

Percival pulls back and Newt briefly mourns the distance, watches the man smile slowly; goodness those swollen lips—

“Time for bed?” Percival asks, eyes dark with desire.

Swallowing, Newt nods.

 

 

 _That_  turns out to be three hours of Newt’s life well-spent. He has never been one for sports but those were rather athletic rounds he’s very much willing to repeat. Rolling over up onto his elbows, he glances at his lover lying next to him, soft and relaxed in afterglow.

_Alright, maybe his phone isn’t a complete asshole._

Percival opens his eyes and gives him an incredulous look. “What?”

“Did I just say that out loud?” Newt groans. “Don’t mind me.”

“I already mind you too much,” Percival says easily, and the smile he offers makes him flush.

Newt scoots over and lays himself against the man, and a strong, comforting arm wraps around him. As he drifts into sleep, he decides that maybe some activities should depend on Percival after all.


End file.
